Sparkle Shoes

Sparkle Shoes, sans 80% of the sparkles.

“Your shoes are ugly,” said the kindergarten classmate.

“No they are not,” replied the 6yo Original Pigtail Pal, Amelia.
“They are. Look how pretty mine are,” the classmate taps her toes for emphasis.
“They are the same pair of shoes. Like the exact same,” explains Amelia.
“They aren’t the same. Mine still have all of the pretty sparkles. I didn’t get them messed up,” boasted the girl, in full sparkle.
“Well, mine get busted up when I run and play. My mom said she doesn’t care but I gotta stay out of the mud because then she hollers like a lady. And she said we could glue more sparkles on so who cares,” Amelia shrugs.
“But they aren’t pretty,” insists the classmate.
“Listen, who cares about pretty? All I care about is playing,” retorts Amelia.
{I’m listening to all of this take place, wondering when it is going to get snippy.}
“Amelia, you should care a little bit about being pretty or you won’t get a boyfriend,” says the classmate.
“You should care less about being pretty and more about playing with us. My mom says there’s lots of different ways to be a girl,” Amelia informs her friend, bringing on the snippy with a head bob or two.
“I don’t want to mess up my shoes,” says the classmate, which is met by an audible sigh from Amelia, who sprints off to play in her busted up not-so-sparkly-anymore shoes.